


Jupiter

by darkmochecoffee



Series: THE RYEONSEUNG AGENDA [4]
Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmochecoffee/pseuds/darkmochecoffee
Summary: Seungwoo anticipates the moment where Seungyoun kisses him goodbye after uttering false promises that Seungwoo will try not to hold on to. This should be the last, this is where the cycle ends.But why do we fall in love with the personification of our own damnation?//So many others tried to crack your heartWeak defenses are the only things you've got-Gallant, 'Jupiter'
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun & Han Seungwoo, Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Han Seungwoo, Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Kim Wooseok | Wooshin
Series: THE RYEONSEUNG AGENDA [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548019
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Jupiter

Darkness shrouds the room. It’s midnight, probably near dawn. The space is hot, or it’s probably Seungyoun’s naked body beneath his that licks heat against his flesh and straight into his marrow. He’s burning.

Or maybe he’s finally, _finally,_ drunk enough to succumb to some hallucination - it’s not a pretty hallucination, either. Heat, fire, Seungyoun - it’s like his personal hell incarnate. Seungyoun moans into his ear, a melody that’s equal parts demonic and enchanting. Seungwoo wonders why these are the thoughts that occupy his head when they’re like this, when they’re fucking, when he gives Seungyoun a piece of his soul the moment their lips close against each other’s.

“Fuck.” Seungyoun enunciates the word like he says the name of a friend. _“Fuck, you’re the best.”_

Seungwoo wants to tear open his ribcage and pull his heart out.

They met a few odd years ago. Seungwoo was everything a person can dream of. His visage resembled a Greek sculpture, he had enough money he barely knew what to do with, and he was _rotten_ through and through.

No one is ever allowed to be flawless.

Seungyoun walked into his life armed with a smile that hid everything else. Seungwoo was enamored from the get go because he’s programmed to gravitate towards things, _towards people_ , who are obscenely fucked up as him.

Seungyoun was a pianist at some grand hotel that only catered to people whose bank accounts had nine digits. His playing was as smooth as the way he whispered lies to men and women who are far too willing to be fooled. Seungyoun never had a preference, he’d fuck everyone who offered him innumerable material things.

Seungyoun was dirt poor; Seungwoo was filthy rich. It didn’t matter, Seungwoo willingly walked towards hell on a road Seungyoun paved for him.

The first time Seungwoo had a taste, he was immediately addicted. He’d blown millions to have Seungyoun’s body and he would do it over and over again. He gave Seungyoun everything, along the way he’d given his heart, even his soul.

It seemed like forever had lapsed since.

They stood on the opposite sides of the spectrum, both equally screwed up. Seungwoo loved Seungyoun, every inch of him, every fucked up thing about him. It was insanity. Seungwoo realized the gravity of his emotions when he’d kissed Seungyoun. Seungyoun looked beautiful underneath the splash of multicolored lights; he tasted of cigarette smoke and a stranger. He was so beautiful even through the haze that clouded Seungwoo's head.

Seungwoo was so in love with him.

_Why do we fall in love with the personification of our own damnation?_

“Stay.”

Seungwoo surveys the nail marks that run through his alabaster skin. There was nothing remotely intimate about what had transpired, for they fuck in a way that feels good, in a way that made Seungwoo feel used. Seungwoo succumbs to Seungyoun's seduction and he loathes himself for a number of terrible decisions, Seungyoun is his favorite.

It’s an unending cycle of pain, pleasure, pain - scalding water onto Seungwoo’s body that doesn’t erase the feeling of Seungyoun’s flesh against his. _I’m fine, this will kill me one day, but I’m fine._

To Seungyoun, Seungwoo is a treasured plaything, a hobby, an addiction. Seungyoun kisses like he loves him. Seungwoo’s a professional when it comes to ignoring the reality of their situation.

“Play me something good,”

Seungyoun chuckles quietly, the sound breaking the reverie inside the decadent penthouse. Seungyoun sits up, naked. Seungwoo stares at his back, appreciates the marks littered over the pianist’s porcelain skin. Seungyoun looks at him with sultry bedroom eyes before he presses a kiss, far too chaste, to Seungwoo’s mouth. “You know I can’t play Stravinsky.”

Seungwoo hums, “I don’t give a fuck.”

“Alright.” Seungyoun grabs whatever clothing he finds on the bedroom floor and covers his nakedness. He stands and crosses the space. There’s an old piano in Seungwoo’s bedroom, an unused Steinway that hasn’t been touched in so long.

Seungwoo reaches for his cigarettes on the bed stand. He lights a stick as Seungyoun strikes a chord, fingers over ivory and ebony keys, expression distraught. Seungwoo stares.

Then he plays, the andante poignant in its melancholia.

“You’re lonely.” Seungyoun states as he shifts into the familiar tune of Chopin’s e-flat major. His playing is incredibly deceptive. “You’re never lonely.”

Seungwoo inhales a long drag and exhales pewter smoke. “How can you tell?”

“It’s written on your face.”

Seungwoo scoffs and stays quiet. During the smooth transition to Debussy, Seungwoo finally deigns Seungyoun with a proper answer. His voice is hoarse, a half whisper. “I’m glad you noticed.” _You’re the cause of it anyway._

 _Clair de Lune_ is background noise behind the tumultuous chaos of Seungwoo’s mind.

Wind blows through the partially open draperies, causing a bar of light to cut through the room and striking the golden band wrapped around Seungyoun’s finger. It glints, a glaring reminder of their sins.

_It should have been me._

Seungwoo is a pianist too, a byproduct of his aristocratic upbringing more than anything else.

They have always played differently. Seungyoun reveres his instrument. He plays like a lover, soft and with so much respect. Seungwoo is almost envious and he wonders if their differences ever accounted for more than anything that’s not this tortuous cycle.

_End this before it ends you._

Seungwoo anticipates the moment where Seungyoun kisses him goodbye after uttering false promises and _I love yous_ that Seungwoo will try not to hold on to. This should be the last, this is where the cycle ends.

He wants to tell Seungyoun, _I adore you, more than my life_ but what would it bring when Seungwoo cannot even believe that he has the capacity to love? How can Seungwoo compare to the man who was brave enough to look at Seungyoun and promise that he’d accept even his demons, to the man who’d put a ring around Seungyoun’s finger?

He cannot. Seungwoo cannot compare to the man who’s infinitely more human than the monster that he is.

Seungyoun’s little concerto ends and he returns to the bed, languidly sprawling over Seungwoo’s body.

He closes his eyes.

“I love you.” Seungyoun lies. Seungwoo wants to believe him. Seungyoun simply lays atop him. Seungwoo runs his fingers over Seungyoun’s back, tracing every dip and curve. Seungwoo commits him to memory.

Maybe, one way or another, Seungyoun loved him too, in his own sick way. Seungyoun is a bleeding heart and he tended to others’ miseries because it made him forget about his own.

“Will you come?”

And he’s so fucking cruel.

“The day after tomorrow?” Seungwoo clarifies though he is hyper aware of the days. It’ll be Seungyoun’s wedding. Up to this point, Seungwoo still hopes that everything is an elaborate nightmare. He wants to wake up.

Seungyoun nods. Seungwoo squeezes him.

“Why would you want me there. Do you really desire to see me suffer?”

Seungyoun presses his mouth to Seungwoo’s throat, laughing. “Don’t give me the waterworks, _love. Y_ ou’re still my favorite fuck, always will be.”

Seungwoo flips them, “Let me have you then, one last time.”

And they fuck, because that’s their equalizing constant. They fuck, a little too intensely. Seungwoo tries not to fall apart but he realizes that he’s already shattered so long ago.

Seungyoun gets married.

Seungwoo sits on the last pew but even in this distance, he still clearly sees Seungyoun. He seems happy, he did admit he wants to get married because he’s exhausted of living a dirt poor life and the man, Wooseok, was generous. He must have offered Seungyoun the entire world.

Seungyoun does not deserve the man, Seungwoo reasons through the pain that’s shredding him to his last atom, Seungyoun does not deserve Wooseok for a fuck up does not belong to a gentle soul.

But then again, a fuck-up is better off with a gentle soul than a monster. Seungyoun is better off without Seungwoo.

It’s better this way.

As he leaves the quaint chapel, Seungwoo realizes that he’s truly such a fucking fool.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise i'll update my fics after the holiday season. meanwhile, have this mess
> 
> @showmyun


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